Missing stories about me failing at life?

Well, let me remedy that.

So, I kept telling myself while I was pregnant with Vivian that I was probably worried about juggling 3 kids far more than I needed to be.  After all, two wasn't nearly as bad as I thought.

I could not have been more wrong.

Three is far worse than I thought.  And I think mostly it is to do with the timing.  At least that is what I'm telling myself to make myself feel better about how poorly I am managing all of this.

Timing as in: kids born 15 months apart...just don't.  Ever.  Just. Don't.

And: Fiance now has a job that leaves him less than available for helping out very much.

And: I'm getting old and tired and my energy is rapidly dwindling.

People keep asking me how it is to be back at work.  

Um, it's amazing.  All those times I was banging on about not being cut out to be a stay at home mom?  OMG, so. so. right.  But just for funsies, I make myself feel guilty about it - about not being desperate to stay home with my children every day and about being relieved to be back at work and about not shedding a single tear when I dropped any of them off on Monday and raced like mad to Dallas and an office building with my quiet, quiet office to do my job which I actually feel like I'm pretty good at.

That is the thing though about me staying at home with them.  I felt like an unaccomplished failure every, single day.  Every day.  Over and over again, things would just fall apart and I'd sit on the couch and cry and be mad at my baby daddies for giving me my perfect, healthy, amazing children who I love with all of my heart and mad at my children for just, you know, being kids and doing kid things.  I even had a melt down at my OB's office right as she walked into the room (obviously catching me in the melt down) and made her question whether or not I had post partum and needed medication.  My response: "Honestly, I think I just need to go back to work."

Mostly, that is true.  Jimmy has been floored by the change in me.  I feel like a normal person again...most of the time.

This morning is an exception to that.  This morning, I compromised my sanity for 20 minutes of extra sleep.  (So not worth it!)  So, there was rushing and yelling and crying and being mad at the whole world and forgetting: my anxiety medication, my allergy medication, and (and this is the best one) diapers for Vivian.  

Big, fat, fabulous FAIL on my part.

But it's okay because it isn't a 24 hour, 7 day a week fail over and over and over again like my own personal Groundhog Day hell.

That is kind of the messed up beautiful part about it.  After spending two solid months feeling like a 24/7 screw up, having one of those really, really bad momfail mornings didn't bog me down like it would have pre-Vivian.

Growth, y'all.  Growth.

Tonight is operation: get my shit together so that we have fewer momfail mornings.  Wish me luck.

Hi friends. I have my back to my kitchen because I haven't cleaned (no, like, at all) since Friday, and I have company coming tomorrow and have to make the place presentable.

So, I'm eating a lunchable and ignoring it.

Now, in my defense, I sprained my ankle Saturday. (Oh, you poor thing! how'd you do that?) (Well, I'll tell you. Thanks for your concern.)

I work in a yuppie part of Dallas with a bunch of yuppie people (I love you all so much, but I speak the truth). Anyway, I have been trying to fit in with them since I started there, but the truth is I just don't. I mean, they are all good to me, but I'm different. I'm not going to shop at Nordstrom or be good at accessorizing or wear skinny jeans. And frankly I feel overwhelmed and like a full on failure every time I try.

Anyway, since joining forces with my redneck fiancé, I have slowly given up even trying to be yuppified and gotten back in touch with the Arkansas girl in me. I have gotten very comfortable with boots and jeans and sweatshirts and cheap beer in cans and mud and just being a tomboy who likes to wear make up and get dressed up from time to time.

So, when all his redneck friends invited us to go muddin' on Saturday, I readily agreed. And, as I do, I joined in all the good natured smack talking and wound up getting, ahem, tackled. And when one gets tackled in a muddy field full of deep tire tracks, one is likely to stumble backward into a tire track and sprain one's ankle....which is exactly what happened to me.

I have been trying to stay off of it as much as I can and still tend to the small village who live in my house (so, basically, I am on it constantly). And now I am backed into a corner and have taken copious amounts of ibuprofen and kept Silas home from school to entertain Gavin (for shame on me! I know. Don't care.)

Now, along the lines of me being lazy and bone weary exhausted and incessantly chasing, feeding, or cleaning a child, I'd like to give a shout out to Pinterest (and my "food" board) and my crock pot. Saving my life, y'all. I see that crock pot and get the warm fuzzies. It also has gotten us out of the food rut we were in - rotating the same 7 meals every week.

On the weekends (when my fiancé isn't at work for 15-17 literal hours a day), I make non crock pot recipes, and I have discovered some really good meals. During the week, the crock pot keeps me from ripping my hair out. I wish I had jumped on this bandwagon years ago.

And on a completely unrelated (but incredibly exciting) note, the Jeep is gone!!!

Michael and I visited a very good mutual friend at the Kia dealership yesterday, and I bought a new Optima (in my very own name!) I imagine you are thinking "Er, why did you buy a sedan? Hadn't we sentenced you to a minivan?"

The thing about being prone to procrastination is that I learned 3 car seats fit in the backseat of my Jeep. That gave me the tiniest bit of hope. And when discussing the kind of vehicle I wanted with my friend, I mentioned that a sedan was totally fine if the kids would all fit...

He pulled around the Optima, and I test drove it and wanted it as badly as Silas wants everything he sees at Target.

Now, seeing as I am entirely too transparent on this blog, you already know that I have been struggling with my credit for some time. And I had no one to cosign for me if that was necessary. I have been working very hard to improve my credit score, but I didn't really know where I stood. Honestly, I had driven to the dealership in a state of severe anxiety because I didn't think I was going to be able to get out of the Jeep, and I knew Michael was going to be less than thrilled, and we were probably going to have many ugly words, and every time I fight with him, I end up getting so worked up that I vomit, and, hello, that sounded awful.

Imagine my complete joy when the manager came over 15 minutes after I gave them my terms and told me he had gotten me exactly what I wanted. There was no nonsense where they came back to me with completely ridiculous terms or told me they couldn't do it without a cosigner. Just a handshake and some paperwork. I have never had such a painless experience at a car dealership.

And now I have a vehicle I love, love, love that gets 36 mpg (as opposed to 18) and no one is on the loan but me. No one can bother me about it. I'm not building someone else's credit. It is mine...or will be once I make 40 million car payments.

So, to wrap this up and go deal with my kitchen, stuff is going well 'round here. Hope things are good in your neck of the woods as well!

Oh, hi colic. No one missed you.

What's worse than having a baby with colic?

Having a baby with colic in addition to having a spunky 16 month old and a rambunctious 4 year old.

Silas' colic was probably more traumatic because I think being a first time mom is generally just traumatic. But, you know, when Silas was sleeping all day, I could pass out on the couch and catch some zzz's too.

Um, this is not the case with Viv. We were up until 3 am, and then the boys were up demanding breakfast at 7:30. Right now the boys are down for a nap, and Vivian is wide awake hiccuping away and staring at the ceiling fan.

And despite my best efforts to keep Vivian calm and quiet when she's pissed in the middle of the night and to weep silently myself once I hit my breaking point, my fiancé is not sleeping much more than I am. "We love you honey. Enjoy your bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived 14 hour work day." :(

Now, this is where I have to tell you that my mom is taking full advantage of my desperate exhaustion to spend time with one or more of her grandchildren every week.

Last Friday, she kept the two littles so I could take Silas to a birthday party. When I text to let her know I was headed to pick them up, she offered to keep them over night. Sold! I went home and played Mario Kart with Silas, Jimmy, and Jimmy's friend and then went to bed and slept all night. It was lovely.

This part of having a baby is rough - especially if you make the mistake of losing perspective and not allowing people to help you (because you're stubborn and bull-headed). So, I try very hard to remind myself that it isn't going to be like this for long, and then I never get to have this again. This time next year, she'll be running around being all independent and only needing me when she is sick or exhausted.

So, I have to remember to find joy in the newborness and accept help when it is offered. I know I will soon look back on this time and miss it desperately.

I have to leave you now...someone needs my attention!

How's it going be a mom of three?

I'm exhausted, so I'm sorry if this winds up making no sense.

So, it turns out that both of my boys are smitten with Vivian. It's as if their big brother and protector role was instinctively activated when she was born.

Gavin spends every moment he can find giving her kisses and speaking to her animatedly in gibberish. Silas does everything he can to help with both of his siblings.

This morning was my first time driving since her birth. It was my first preschool drop off with all three of them. Silas was very impressed when I "put him in charge" of holding Gavin's hand as we walked through the building to Silas' classroom.

Viv is somewhere between Silas and Gavin as newborns in the sleep department. Some nights we are up for 2-3 hours in the middle of the night. Other nights she wakes up only long enough to eat, burp, and have her diaper changed.

Even on the nights when she won't sleep, she is sweet about it. It isn't 2-3 hours of blood-curdling screaming like with Silas. Just some whimpering over the gas in her belly that we are trying to work out. Just wanting to be snuggled up against mom or dad's chest.

Her demeanor remains calm, sweet, and patient. She is easy to adore.

The stairs are magically not as horrendous a feat as they were while I was 6-9 months pregnant. So, making 50 trips a day up and down them is not as bad as I thought it would be.

I still haven't tackled target by myself with all three of them, but I have successfully tackled it with just the two little ones, so I think I can handle throwing in Silas walking next to the cart asking me to buy him all of the things. I think.

So far I don't feel like I'm screwing it up with the boys. Neither of them is acting out in a way that makes me believe they feel left out. Hopefully that remains true as time progresses.

Basically, what I'm saying is that right now, we seem to be a stronger little family than ever.

I'm off to debate on a nap or cleaning house now while the little ones are sleeping.

Welcome Vivian

Thursday morning I lay in bed waiting for noise to come from the boys' bedroom. I had decided to let them sleep in and start the day when they felt like it.

Once they got up, I got them dressed and we headed out to the car. My plan was to drop Silas off at school and go do last minute pre-baby errands.

It was snowing but the news the day before had assured viewers that the snow should not cause any trouble on the roads.  It took me about half a mile to determine that the news had lied.

I settled for a quick trip to Target and hanging out with the boys in our loft until Michael's mom came to pick them up for the weekend.

After that I began to clean and wander into Vivian's room to look at her tiny pink things and cry and have anxiety.

The snow prompted the decision to rent a room in Dallas in order to avoid treacherous roads at 4 am. A sleepover with Jimmy, me, my mom and my aunt.

But first, Jimmy and I decided to have a pre-baby celebration meal. We went on a little dinner date. It is one of the happiest meals I have ever had. The food was good, and I sincerely enjoyed having a celebratory meal with my favorite person.

I didn't sleep well that night. I was nervous, and someone in that room was snoring loudly...

I woke up anxious and emotional. I cried a lot, and Jimmy constantly hugged me and kissed the top of my head and reassured me.

My mom had come to the hospital early to hold my hand during my epidural because Jimmy wanted no part of it. And then we found out they were inserting the epidural in the OR. My mom was not allowed to go with me. So, it was Jimmy or no one.

He reluctantly agreed and sat on a stool in front of me. We put our foreheads together and held hands.

I didn't jump, and it was over. I looked at Jimmy and smiled and noticed he was white as a sheet. "You ok?"  He nodded in a way that made me know he was lying. "Are you sure?" He looked like he was about to faint, and looked at the nurse and said, "I need water."

He was led from the room, and they went about prepping me for surgery. All too soon, I got the same
weird feeling I had gotten with Gavin. "Seriously?!" I piped up, and the anesthesiologist asked me a
couple of questions. I was waiting to hear "we hit an artery. We're going to have to do the epidural again." I wanted to scream. Instead, I heard, "ok, I can give you something for that." And he did, and I felt normal again shortly. All that was left to worry about was whether or not Jimmy would be back for the birth.

After not much longer, in walked my handsome fiancé in his scrubs looking much better than the last time I had seen him. He sat down next to my head, and grabbed my hands and kissed my forehead with tears in his eyes, "we're about to have our little girl!"

My doctor began surgery, and Jimmy and I grinned at each other and sang the songs that came on in the background and chatted nervously and said "I love you" 900 times. Suddenly, in the middle of us chattering, we both stopped short and cried simultaneously when we heard "waaaaaah!

Vivian was born! Jimmy went over to take pictures and came back to show them to me.

When they announced that Viv was 8lbs, 1 oz, I was really surprised.

After a bit, Jimmy brought her over, and I got to see her beautiful, chubby little face and kiss on her loooooong fingers. "She's perfect, see?!" Jimmy unwrapped her to show me her ten toes, and we spent the next hour staring at her and kissing her while they finished up tying my tubes. When it was over, my doctor told me that my decision not to have more kids was a good one. My body couldn't handle carrying another one.

After a couple hours in recovery, we were taken to our room, and Candice brought up the boys. Silas was very concerned about me being in the hospital and he was smitten with Vivian. Gavin didn't care much about Vivian until Candice picked her up, then he tried to pull her blanket out of Candice's hands. Uh oh....

I spent the rest of the weekend adjusting to being back on a newborn's schedule and having a girl.

Can I just say (and I hope I'm not jinxing myself) that she is so sweet and so easy going. The only thing that I have seen make her angry is being cold (she is her father's daughter). Even when she's hungry, she announces it quietly. She is so much different than my boys who roared into the world at full force and never slowed down.

Now Jimmy, Vivian and I are at home. She loves her swing (Gavin taught me that a good swing is worth the investment). The boys come home this evening, and we'll see how it goes.

I know we'll all get adjusted.

I have to say that it is a very neat feeling to know that my family is complete. This is it, and it so perfect.

Nine

Ahem, nine days.

Yes, I said NINE DAYS.  That is a single digit number of days left, you guys.

In nine days, I will have three kids/my last kid/a daughter.

I'm far more nervous than I think I should be after having already done this three times.  I'm more nervous about having Vivian than I was before I had Gavin and was facing the journey into being a single mom to two kids - one being a newborn the other being a super active three year old.

I didn't do this with the boys - maybe because they are boys, but I have spent a substantial amount of time reliving the day I went into labor with Anabel over the last week.  That, I think, is what is causing the bulk of my nerves.  The fear of something being wrong and her being taken from me.  

I'm not trying to turn this into a sad, weepy, woe-is-me post.  Just being honest.  Also?  I ask you guys to pray all the time, so you shouldn't be surprised that I'm calling on you again.  I ask that you please pray for Vivian to be healthy and whole and to live a long, happy life.  

I'm not sure how much more I'll be posting until she is born.  I have a lot of stuff I have been procrastinating about (as I previously mentioned once or twice).  So, I imagine I will be pretty busy for the next nine days.

If you don't hear from me until after baby day, I promise baby pictures in that post :)

Wish us luck!

Oops, I did it again

Oh y'all.  I did it again.

I dragged someone to the hospital in the middle of the night for no reason.

False labor tricked me again.  My contractions hurt so badly that I was in tears.  So, even though I felt really dumb when they sent me home, I don't think I would have done anything differently had I been presented with the situation again.  I must have looked as defeated as I felt when they told me they didn't think I was in labor because Jimmy told me over and over again, "please don't be upset.  You are just being a good mom."  Because (as I have mentioned) he is amazing.

So, trying to look at the bright side: now there is a bag packed.  It took me over an hour to get it packed because I was refusing to let him do it, and I kept stopping to have contractions or look for things that I had walked past 40 times or things I had already packed.

Jimmy: "if they send us home tonight with no Vivian, you leave this suitcase packed!"

Me: "duh."

I'm actually kind of glad that I had this experience.  Having a scheduled c-section is 99% awesome.  I won't list the reasons, but they are numerous.  However, what you don't get is that "OMG, this could be it!" experience, so even though the drive to the hospital on c-section day is very much exciting, it's different.

This little dry run was quite enjoyable in hindsight because I got to see Jimmy's reaction to me possibly being in labor.  He was a nervous wreck (although still managed to pry the bows I was trying to pack for Vivian out of my hands and hide them from me....he gave them back yesterday, and I snuck them into the bag because two can play that game).

At one point, I was dealing with Gavin and I'm pretty sure I heard him in the bathroom hyperventilating.  

Me: "are you having an anxiety attack?!"

Him: "no. (gasp). I'm fine. (gasp). I promise. (gasp)"

Once we finally got loaded into the car and got Gavin dropped off with my mom (Silas was already there), Jimmy drove like a lunatic until I gave him "the look" at which point he rambled off into a speech about how he was sorry and I had to trust that he would never do anything to put mine or Vivian's lives in danger but he was very nervous about me having a baby in the front seat of his truck what with us living, like, an hour from the hospital.  Also, he slowed down.

Once we got to the hospital, they hooked me up to the monitor which tracked my contractions and monitored Viv's heartbeat.  Her heart rate sounded pretty steady while the nurse and I chattered away, and then Jimmy spoke for the first time.  Her heart started racing, and he and I got little happy tears.  It was insanely sweet to hear her reaction to her daddy's voice.

They checked to make sure I wasn't dehydrated (I was not - thank you very much) and made sure I wasn't "progressing" (I wasn't), and then just kept coming back to ask about whether or not the pain was getting worse (it was).  Finally, they decided to sedate me (I think my nurse felt sorry for me because I was so tired but couldn't sleep for the pain and couldn't stop crying).

After the medication kicked in (3 am, obvi), they woke Jimmy up (I had insisted he go to sleep on the little couch) and told him he could take me home.  

I haven't taken any sort of sedative-type medication since I had Gavin, so I was a mess.  I put the seat back in the truck and tried to sleep but kept popping up to speak every random thought that occurred to me, "I really like the color gray!"  We got home at 4 am, and I somehow managed to climb the stairs and fall into bed.  The last thing I remember before drifting off into insane dreams was Jimmy kissing my cheek and saying, "thank you for being so brave."  (ugh, he's sickeningly perfect at being a good fiance/baby daddy).

I spent most of yesterday on the couch trying to come back from the land of Oz.

Today it's back to work as usual.  My last week of work before taking a few days off to finally tackle the last of the last minute preparations for Vivian.  

The dry run was embarrassing, but it certainly let me know I am in good hands.

One week, four days.  Eeek!